


let me go | hold me close

by firedup



Series: turn up the music for me baby [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Angst, Recall timeline, Secret Relationship, mild pining, off-screen violence, switching POVs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 21:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20180758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firedup/pseuds/firedup
Summary: Hanzo's past tears them apart.And reunites them again.





	let me go | hold me close

**Author's Note:**

> I fixed this until it was broken. Now I'm posting it to keep myself from fixing it any more >.<

A lesser person may have been intimidated by the scowl Hanzo sends his way when Lúcio hip-bumps him and jerks his head toward the ice-cream parlour.

Lúcio, being Lúcio, counters the disapproving expression with his most winning grin and an attempt to full-body jostle the older man in the direction he wants him to go.

(Not that he‘s got a snowball‘s chance in hell of moving Hanzo Shimada when Hanzo Shimada doesn‘t want to be moved, but he‘s going to try anyway, just for the heck of it. )

„Stop that. We don‘t have time for this.“ Hanzo takes a step back just as Lúcio is gathering momentum for another attempt. The result being that he almost ends up faceplanting into the asphalt, saving himself at the last moment and with wildly windmilling arms. Only once he‘s upright and steady once more does he notice the shadow of a smirk hiding in the corner of Hanzo‘s mouth.

„Asshole,“ he informs him pleasantly.

The smirk vanishes and is replaced with an expression of such exaggerated innocence that Lúcio can‘t help but snort.

„We _have_ time. Your boss says so.“ With that point settled to his own satisfaction, Lúcio makes a beeline toward the display case and the amused-looking, be-aproned woman watching them from behind it.

„My boss should remember his responsibilities and stop trying to bribe me with sweets.“ Despite the annoyed tone, Hanzo‘s voice doesn‘t grow any more distant, so he‘s clearly following him.

„Getting back to the hotel in time for dinner is hardly a responsibility,“ Lúcio shoots over his shoulder while he forges on. Truth is, he‘s not in any kind of mood to go anywhere where he‘ll have to do without Hanzo‘s company today, and returning to the hotel would mean another of his bodyguards taking over. While they‘re all nice and friendly and professional, none of them are _Hanzo_.

„Also, as for bribing you with sweets? I do that because it works.“ He smiles sweetly and laughs at the grimace crossing his lover‘s face. Hanzo hates the fact that he‘s utterly weak to any food with a high sugar content. One of his self-discipline issues. If Lúcio has found out one thing about him in the past year, it‘s that he‘s all about discipline, that self-denial is like food to him, that his self-loathing is so intense it‘s the only thing keeping him from killing himself because he thinks he doesn‘t deserve the out death would give him.

It scares him, sometimes, that this is the man he would have fallen in love with. A disgraced mobster and self-confessed brother-killer, an assassin for hire, a murderer. Wonders what it says about himself that he can just look past that.

Well… learned to, eventually. He‘s not completely naive.

He‘s also no stranger to the darker sides of humanity. Growing up in a favela doesn‘t exactly give you the luxury of ignorance in those matters.

Maybe it‘s that. The fact that he‘s seen some shit in his own life. Seen people do shit they regret. Some go down under it, some work to rectify it, and of those, a few might even manage it. Come back stronger.

He has no guarantee Hanzo will be one of those, but here he is, hoping.

He might even be helping a little.

Even if it‘s only with ice cream.

By now, he has reached the display case with its boxes of savory-looking ice cream in all colors, and the parlour employee smiling at him from behind it. She obviously has neither overheard their banter nor does she recognize him, which is a relief. One of the things he loves about Europe: it‘s far easier to remain incognito here than it would be in the Americas.

The woman‘s eyes flick to Hanzo, then back to Lúcio. „Boyfriend?“, she asks- the smile acquires a hint of tease. Lúcio lets his broad grin be his answer and allows her to read anything she wants into it.

„Quite the catch. See that you keep him.“ She winks and then visibly rallies back to ‚professional‘ mode, „So, what‘ll you gentlemen have?“

While Hanzo huffs behind him in fake annoyance, Lúcio studies the display and then the laminated card with pictures of the various cups this parlour does. „This looks good. Two of those, please.“ He taps his finger onto one of the pictures. The employee takes a look and nods, „Two iced coffees, coming right up!“

A few minutes later and they‘re ensconced at one of the tiny round tables out in front with two cups filled two the brim with vanilla ice cream and ice-cold coffee, topped with whipped cream. Hanzo has given up all pretense of being annoyed and is now in a world of caffeine-and-sugar filled bliss, scooping out spoonfuls of the ice cream from his cup. Lúcio alternates between slurping the coffee from the bottom of his own, where it‘s just barely sweetened by the dissolving ice cream, and demolishing the mound of whipped cream, while watching him.

If he didn‘t know Hanzo that well he‘d say he‘s relaxed, and he is, just not one hundred percent. Like a wild animal- or a lifelong assassin- a part of him is always on alert. That‘s why he makes such a damn good bodyguard, it‘s why his manager chose to hire him, and it‘s wise, it‘s just… a shame.

Like he never feels safe. At all.

Lúcio suppresses a sigh and stabs at his ice cream with the metal straw. Maybe once the tour‘s over. Once they‘re back home, in a house with all necessary safety measures in place, then Hanzo‘ll be able to relax and let his guard down for fucking once. It‘ll be bad enough having to keep their relationship secret, even then.

.

When both their coffees are gone, they wind their way back to the hotel through the inner part of the city. The tourists milling about here provide enough cover that Lúcio gives in to the impulse and slips his hand into Hanzo‘s. His heart skips a beat when his lover entangles their fingers, easy and natural, as if they did this all the time and yet it‘s the first time ever.

If he pushed his luck now by leaning on Hanzo‘s shoulder….

No. He certainly wouldn‘t appreciate that.

But it‘s nice to stroll around town like they‘re normal people, part of the flow of humanity, not pieces of driftwood swimming on top. Just partners enjoying their vacation. Lúcio watches Hanzo watch a street artist‘s juggling performance and smirk to himself in that superior way he has when he reckons he is better at something than someone else.

Since that goes for pretty much everything, it‘s an expression Lúcio gets to see quite often.

He elbows him in the side. „Stop that.“

„Why? If he keeps dropping that fifth ball, he should just use four and leave it at that.“

„And how‘s he supposed to learn to juggle five if he never does it? Practice makes perfect. Also, don‘t you try and tell me you know how to juggle.“

„Practicing is best done in private, not on the street, and I do know how to juggle. Helps improve eye-hand cordination,“ he adds in answer to Lúcio‘s raised eyebrow.

„Why am I even surprised. Say, did you ever do anything for fun when you were a kid?“

„Catch worms and put them down the back of my brother‘s _gi_.“

Despite himself, and Hanzo‘s brother being a touchy subject, Lúcio snorts out loud, drawing the attention of most of the onlookers and causing the poor artist to fumble his fifth ball again.

He absolutely has to leave him some money after that, no matter Hanzo‘s disapproving huff.

They stroll on, but they‘ve only been walking for a scant few minutes when their moment gets ruined- and with it, their lives suddenly and irrevocably changed.

Without warning, Hanzo suddenly goes tense. To the outward eye, there is no visible change, but being right beside him and still hand-in-hand Lúcio notices the subtle shift and goes instantly alert himself. Instincts acquired in the streets of Rio, dodging Vishkar and their bought-and-paid-for police, now help him calm his suddenly hammering heart and walk on as if nothing were amiss.

He doesn‘t have to ask if someone‘s following them, that much seems obvious, and he starts scanning the crowd under cover of looking at all the sights the street has to offer, from the other pedestrians to the shops, cafés, and the cheap but overpriced little trinkets on sale everywhere in tiny stalls, for tourists to take home and forget about.

Soon enough, he‘s singled out several faces that just happen to turn up repeatedly, and always at the same distance to the two of them.

„Four?“, he asks Hanzo under his breath, barely moving his lips.

„Five,“ the older man corrects, „Likely Shimada.“

Lúcio‘s heart drops like a stone. „Then let‘s get back to the hotel and hole up-“

„No.“ Hanzo‘s interruption is decisive. Glancing up at him, Lúcio can only marvel at the detachment his face shows from what must be happening underneath when he smiles politely and sidesteps a young couple with a stroller and an unruly child that they‘re anxiously trying to calm down. Under cover of the little one‘s crying, he then continues, „They won‘t want to cause a scene, so they won‘t attack as long as we‘re in a crowd. But once we leave the main streets...“

„Fuck.“ Of course, the hotel Lúcio‘s manager had chosen is a smaller, simpler one out of the way of the worst of the tourist streams. To get there, they‘ll have five minutes of sidestreets to wander through. More than enough time for a handful of trained assassins to get the drop on them. And out of the two of them, only one is armed- Hanzo‘s carrying a standard gun concealed under his loose sports jacket, but Lúcio has nothing.

He didn‘t think he would ever miss his gear as much as he does right now.

„So what do we do?“

„_I_ am going to call for backup, and _you_ are going to go back to the hotel with them and stay there.“

Almost, Lúcio stops walking right then and there. It takes an effort of will to force himself on, to continue putting one foot in front of the other. Because what Hanzo is saying here means…

„You‘re gonna leave.“

„I am going to draw them off you.“ Sounds different, says the same. There‘s no way Hanzo can return if he leaves now. His cover is compromised. So far, his clan doesn‘t have a reason to target Lúcio, the one thing his lover was always most afraid of it happening. He won‘t _give_ them one by returning to his side.

Lúcio has never gotten it in that thick head of his that he‘s not scared of the Shimada . Not for himself. Let them come and try to take his man, and they‘ll get the same kind of lesson Vishkar did.

„No.“

He can‘t see Hanzo gritting his teeth, but he can hear it in his voice. „This is not the place or the time to argue.“- and of course he‘s right, it isn‘t, but Lúcio can‘t help _wanting_ to. To yell at him to fucking stop playing the hero, to stay and let Lúcio be the one to protect him for a change.

And knows, at the same time, that it‘d be worse than useless. For one, he‘d be drawing the attention of the entire street. And after all there‘s no moving Hanzo Shimada if he doesn‘t want to be moved. He can only hold his tongue and accept his fate, and that‘s one of the things he was always worst at.

Hanzo steers him toward yet another street artist, a girl drawing on the cobbles with colorful chalks. His hand fumbles around under his jacket for a moment before emerging again with a few bits of change, deftly disguising the fact that he just pressed the emergency button on his comm. Soon, the rest of Lúcio‘s bodyguards will find them here. And that‘ll be that.

It‘s all he can do to hold back the tears. His hand tightens around Hanzo‘s in what must feel like a deathgrip- then he really almost bursts out crying when he feels the other man‘s thumb gently stroking the back of his hand.

„If anyone asks, you never knew who I am,“ he hears Hanzo mumbling.

Lord, give him patience.

He wants to _hit_ him.

„Do you think I‘m _stupid_ or what?!“ The tiny explosion draws Hanzo‘s eyes down to him and- he‘s fucking _smirking_.

Lúcio _really_ wants to hit him.

„Asshole.“

.

The exchange goes off without a hitch. Only a few minutes after the emergency signal has been sent, requesting backup, they spot several of Lúcio‘s bodyguards wading through the crowd, all of them looking just like more tourists in their civilian clothes. As they walk up to Vera and Ladislav, Lúcio simply continues on next to them, and then between them as Vera sidles around him as if by chance.

When he next looks around, both his pursuers and Hanzo are gone.

-

Hanzo resumes his normal life as soon as he has left Lúcio‘s side. Immediately, that means leading his would-be assassins away from his lover, which he does with some success. They play a deadly game of cat-and-mouse all over the city, and at the end, four Shimada assassins are dead and one will crawl back to Japan missing both his ears.

That done, he leaves the city and goes underground once more.

He retrieves his gear- Stormbow and all the other valuable but conspicuous things he had to stash away prior to becoming a bodyguard- and goes jobhunting. There are five contracts for the area he‘s currently in and he takes them all.

It doesn‘t work. His attempts to distract himself only leave him exhausted and irritable, feeling lonely. For the first time in his life, he had to leave someone he cares about behind, and the pain of that is an undercurrent to everything he does.

Worst is the worrying. With Lúcio being very much a public person, he can see him anytime he likes, photos, holovids, interviews on TV, livestreams of his concerts (and he must plead guilty to watching all of them), but seeing him smile at a camera does not answer the question if he is _alright_.

How he‘s coping with Hanzo‘s sudden disappearance.

If there‘s someone to hold him together when he‘s given so much of himself that he starts to drift apart.

Sometimes, Hanzo imagines he finds little messages in the official videos, messages meant for him, and tells himself that he‘s starting to go mad.

.

A month later, he has at least stopped flinching whenever Lúcio‘s music comes on anywhere.

.

Another two weeks and the big tour finally comes to an end with one great, final concert. Hanzo watches every minute of the stream with a sinking feeling, knowing that he will have to do without even those tiny glimpses from now on. He traces Lúcio‘s every gesture on the small screen like he used to trace the lines of his body with his hands, and when the show‘s over, he opens a bottle of _sake _and doesn‘t stop drinking until it‘s all gone.

.

After a concert, there are always the interviews. In all honesty Hanzo has started wondering why the press does not simply do one interview with every artist per year and leaves it at that, because the questions all start to sound the same after a while, starting with what Lúcio had for breakfast, when the next album will be coming out, and if he‘s free for the taking.

The journalist posing that last question seems particularly invested in it, and Hanzo scoffs even as his heart starts skipping beats.

Lúcio tries to shrug her off, but the reporter proves tenacious. Watching from half a world away, Hanzo can feel himself gritting his teeth. This is the moment where one of Lúcio‘s staff ought to interpose, to prevent their boss from being harrassed on a live-feed- where are they and what the fuck are they doing?

Even on his portable holoset, Hanzo can see Lúcio‘s face and posture slowly crumpling as he tries to fend off the onslaught alone.

He wants to reach through and _murder_ that impertinent person.

And then comes the last straw:

„Come on now, don‘t play coy! Someone as handsome and famous as you…. there‘s no way you don‘t have a special somebody!“ It comes out like a joke, with a tinkling laugh.

Half a world away and helpless, Hanzo sees it. How the words hit Lúcio like a blow to the back. How his eyes squeeze shut and his face pinches in pain, a second before he hides it in his hands. How his shoulders start to shake.

Then someone at the TV company takes pity on him and switches over to advertisement, and as a colorful, upbeat ad for Lúcio-Ohs comes on, Hanzo sits stunned on the faded couch of his rundown rental apartment and feels something inside him break.

.

Life doesn‘t stop just because he wants it to. He had to realize this fact once before, in the days after he took a blade to his own brother, when he woke up every morning wishing he could simply die. He is reminded of it now when the world refuses to cease its demands of him. You are not a ghost yet, it seems to be saying, no matter how much you want to fade into one.

Perhaps this is even his punishment for choosing to forget, albeit temporarily, about his crime and abandoning his quest for redemption. For grasping at a happiness he didn‘t deserve.

So he throws himself into work and ignores the wrenching in his chest every time he sees a picture of Lúcio somewhere.

.

The anniversary of Genji‘s death has almost arrived, so he returns to Japan. He infiltrates the castle and is ambushed by a cyborg.

.

It takes him another few months to gather his courage and follow his brother. His path takes him back to Europe, to a former Overwatch Watchpoint that doesn‘t deserve the proud gesture with which Genji presents it to him when they meet in the litter-strewn entryway.

Hanzo is not impressed, and his face shows it.

„I know it‘s not the Ritz, but the company‘s better, trust me on this, _aniki_.“

The archer swivels his eyes back to the creature he has been led to believe is his brother. With its carbon-fibre exoskeleton and the smooth, expressionless mask, it might or might not be just another machine. One programmed to ape Genji‘s mannerisms- like the way it‘s standing now, the way he used to stand, with his feet planted firmly apart and his arms crossed over his chest, part expectant, part exasperated. Perhaps this is just an elaborate trap, after all, and this thing the bait meant to lure him into it.

And he‘s just weary and heartsick enough to follow.

„To you? No doubt.“

That sigh, too, is so familiar, synthetic though it sounds. „You know, brother, I worked hard to convince everyone to give you a chance. I‘d appreciate it if you didn‘t let all that go to waste. At least _try_.“

Equal parts chastened and feeling bitter, Hanzo shuts up. The Genji- thing in front of him regards him for a moment longer and then motions for him to follow.

In what is perhaps the most foolhardy decision in his life, except for letting an idealistic young musician in on his dark past, Hanzo follows.

.

There are several scenarios as to how Hanzo‘s introduction to the rest of Overwatch can go. The best, and the one Genji is secretly hoping for, is his brother being stiffly polite and the others not shooting him on sight. And while what actually happens might not be the ideal version, it is far from the worst, where they have to bury him out back.

Lena just threatens him while smiling in his face, Winston is his usual awkward self, and Jesse seems to actually like him, but then again, his old Blackwatch colleague always had a soft spot for assholes. Case in point- his undying crush on Reyes.

And as to the slap Angela gives his brother, he‘ll recover.

That is the first half of the introductions over with, and also the point where it all begins to go off-script. Lena blinks away to fetch the rest of their agents, the Lindholms from the workshop and Lúcio and Reinhardt from…. wherever they‘ve holed up to compare their Hasselhoff playlists.

(He‘s not sure if he‘d rather this was a euphemism, or not. Both possibilities are scary.)

Genji is watching his brother as they wait, sitting stiff and prim in his chair and still managing to look as calmly superior as he ever did when he was the head of the Shimada clan. That changes pretty quickly when the patter of sneakered feet in the corridor outside the meeting room announces the approach of one Brazilian DJ. Even before Lúcio appears in the door, Hanzo suddenly goes white as a sheet. Either he‘s more nervous than Genji thought, or…

Or there‘s something else going on, something that prompts the medic to march straight up to Hanzo, fist both hands in the front of his T-Shirt, pull him to his feet, and mash their lips together as if half the Watchpoint weren‘t right there.

„Okay, luvs, what the fuck….“, comes Lena‘s voice from inside the doorway. Everyone ignores her. Genji, because his mental processes are still busy short-circuiting:

\--That‘s his brother. Kissing Lúcio fucking Correia fucking dos Santos, because yes, at this point he is kissing back- swapping spit (ew) with an international celebrity! (Three exclamation marks.) Hanzo. To whom sex is a business transaction, intimacy the equivalent of a blindfold game of Jenga, and relationships a pastime for those with nothing more important to do. Hanzo, the perfect _shinobi_. Sliding his arms around a _gaijin_ with dreadlocks, face as soft as Genji has ever seen it, not caring if what he does is proper or respectable or if he‘s losing face in front of all the other people watching, in fact, he seems to have completely forgotten that there are still other people present at all.

However this happened and whatever Lúcio did to him, Genji‘ll have to remember to thank him.

After he‘s washed his brain with bleach.

Speaking of Lúcio, he‘s looped his arms around Hanzo‘s neck and is all but climbing him. And that‘s his cue to intervene.

Genji clears his throat and takes some slight satisfaction in the way they burst apart. Hanzo looks _mortified_. Lúcio does, too, but he rallies a lot faster, turns around to face the rest of the team with a defiant grin, jerks his thumb at Hanzo over his shoulder, and declares, „Ok, just so you know, I‘m calling dibs.“

.

Genji‘s brother is pretty much what Jesse had been expecting. Hard, harsh, hellishly uncomfortable surrounded by, and trying to play nice with, a lot of people who are little better than his enemies.

Handsome devil, too, but that‘s on a sidenote. `cause, as it turns out, he‘s already taken.

As jaws are dropping around him, Jesse all but laughs his ass off. `course, a revelation like that asks for an explanation, which Lúcio tries to give once he‘s done… greeting… his boyfriend. He‘d have it easier if people didn‘t keep interrupting- Angie in particular looks absolutely incredulous, if not horrified, by him admitting that he‘d known about Genji previous to getting together with Hanzo. At one point, they‘re just short of shouting at each other, but Lúcio‘s not giving an inch, and Jesse suddenly remembers that this is the guy who led half a city into a rebellion. It‘s not hard to see how he did it right now- arms crossed, chin up, proudly defending his relationship.

Sight‘s almost funny, the young firecracker all up in arms, shielding the greying ex-mobster who looks for all the world as if he would love to bolt for the next-best mouse hole. Makes a man take pity on him, really.

„Angie, calm down, pretty sure the kid knows what he‘s doing.“ He puts a calming hand on the Doc‘s shoulder. She almost slaps it away, but it‘s the metal one, which means bruised knuckles for anyone who tries that. Lúcio gives him a look that‘s halfway between grateful for the intervention and pissed that he called him a kid, because he hates that. „An‘ for Chrissakes give `em a break. Y‘all are actin‘ like someone‘s overprotective gramma.“ As he‘s saying that, he looks toward Winston, and the monkey actually catches on for once.

A giant gorilla clearing his throat gets attention, he‘s got that going for him.

„I say we adjourn this meeting. Let‘s let Shimada-san get settled in. I, ah…. assume you‘ll be showing him around, Lúcio?“

„You bet, big guy.“

Winston nods at him. „Then that is all for now. We will meet again tomorrow. Good day, agents.“ He turns and squeezes through the door, followed closely by Lena and, eventually, all the others.

Jesse stays til last, watching them all out. Then he gets up from his seat on the table, stretches, winks at the two lovebirds, and saunters off.

.

The door hisses shut behind the cowboy and they‘re finally, finally alone. Hanzo lets out the breath he‘s been holding in for what feels like the past week. He‘s exhausted and desperately wants a shower. And at least a week in which he doesn‘t have to see any other people, at all.

„You alright?“ Hands touch his face. He only notices he‘d closed his eyes when he opens them to look at Lúcio, concerned and warm and, most importantly, right there.

Well… not _all_ other people.

„Of course.“ How could he not be, now? But that worried wrinkle between Lúcio‘s eyebrows stays right where it is as brown eyes look at him searchingly.

„You sure? Because it sure as hell was a bit of a shock to me when I came here and met this guy who told me his name was Genji Shimada, and there you are, going ten years thinking he‘s dead….“

He doesn‘t know what to say to that. His life has taken so many turns recently he could barely keep up. Figuring out how he actually feels about any of that is something he hasn‘t had time to do yet.

„Thought so,“ Lúcio huffs when he apparently takes too long to answer. The hands disappear from his face. Instead, one grips his arm and draws him along, through a rapidly gathering fog. Steel-and-concrete walls pass by to both sides, then there‘s another door and a soft surface and… -

He wakes again feeling oddly content, though he can‘t remember why for the first few confused moments. There‘s someone beside him, which normally would be cause for concern. This time, it feels… not familiar, exactly, but right.

Contrary to his usual habits, he‘s in no hurry to wake up and only blinks his eyes open when the person next to him shifts. The first thing he sees is an expanse of green shirt, the next, a bright smile.

„Good morning.“ Lúcio bends over him, bracing himself on both arms next to his head. His dreadlocks tumble around his shoulders, longer than Hanzo remembers them being. „You slept like the dead. First time I‘ve seen you sleep.“ For a second, the smile acquires a thoughtful quality. „How you feelin‘?“

„Quite good,“ Hanzo manages after two false starts in which his vocal chords just won‘t obey him and he has to clear his throat repeatedly. He must indeed have slept like the dead.

„Only quite? Gonna have to do something about that… not what you‘re thinking now. Pervert.“

„I wasn‘t thinking anything,“ Hanzo defends himself, in the face of all the evidence.

„Right. Go shower, I‘ll rustle up something to eat. Your pack‘s by the door. And afterward we‘re gonna have us a talk, because I‘ve got a bone to pick with you.“ Lúcio jams a finger into his chest and gets up while Hanzo‘s still rubbing the spot.

His pack is indeed right next to the door. He takes out a fresh set of clothes, takes a shower and brushes his teeth, as if it were morning instead of five in the afternoon. The food Lúcio brings completes the appearance: pancakes with whipped cream and fresh fruit. He glowers at him suspiciously and receives an utterly unrepentant smile.

In the end, they share the pancakes, and when they‘re gone, Lucio climbs into his lap and collars him. „Now, Mr Shimada. Next time you feel like playing the hero and pulling some ‚I gotta leave you for your own good‘ bullshit, _don‘t!_ If your clan ever comes after you again we‘re gonna deal with it together, got me?“

The instinct to say no is there. Hanzo‘s always dealt with his problems on his own.

And that‘s how he killed his brother and lost his lover. Only through sheer luck did he get them both back, although it remains to be seen if that is indeed true for Genji.

But this? Not for anything would he jeopardize this, ever again.

„I... understand. And I am sorry for what I put you through.“

Lúcio sighs, a long exhale from deep, deep down. „I hope so. Wasn‘t fun, let me tell you that. You couldn‘t at least have gotten a message to me to tell me you were alive? Not like you didn‘t know where I was!“

„I didn‘t dare.“ It‘s true, and yet, saying it like that, it sounds like a bad excuse. He thinks of Lúcio alone and hurting. Thinks of him curling up in pain during a live interview. One tiny message could have prevented that. One small, well-encoded note. That he was too paranoid to send.

A heavy silence falls between them, during which Hanzo feels shame grow and expand inside him. The feeling never gets any easier to bear, for all that he should be used to it by now.

„I‘m sorry,“ he repeats, gaze falling to the floor. Lúcio brings it back up by lifting his chin with a hand and leans their foreheads together. The smile on his face blurs through the proximity.

„Forgiven. But if you do something like that again, I _will_ kick your ass.“

The distance between their mouths is vanishing even as he speaks. Then there‘s none at all.

Hanzo doesn‘t get the chance to answer, so he tries to let his kiss answer for him. A promise to stay and a hope for a future…. whatever it may bring.

.

„Ya know ya‘re not supposed to only cover your lover boy, right?“ The amused drawl reaches his ears via comm and Hanzo snorts, draws an arrow and puts it neatly through the gang member trying to sneak up on McCree.

„You were saying, cowboy?“

„He‘s just messing with you, Han...“ Lúcio‘s voice sounds soothing, a stark contrast to the whoop he gives a moment later as he sound-blasts a hostile across half the square they‘re fighting on. Hanzo can hear his music through the bud in his ear, a pulsing, powerful beat. Energy courses through him like his own blood in the wake of it. And the anxiety that is his constant companion whenever Lúcio enters a battle.

But this is the price they both pay.

McCree isn‘t entirely wrong. The temptation to cover Lúcio first and foremost is strong, and he keeps having to remind himself that they are only parts of a larger whole now. It doesn‘t help that he is utterly unused to teamwork.

And _that_ is the price he has to pay for having his brother returned to life.

„I know that.“

„And yet ya fall for it every time...~“

A weary sigh. „Focus, please, agents!“ Winston‘s brave attempt to sound authoritative falls on deaf ears. Tracer compounds the fact by cheerfully backstabbing him: „Oh c‘mon, luv, remember us back then?“, to which Genji adds, „You wouldn‘t shut up, no matter what.“

„That was _you_!“

„Reinforcements!“ As soon as Hanzo barks the word into his comm, the banter cuts off. As one, the team converges on the new threat. High above them in his sniper‘s nest, Hanzo feels an unfamiliar thrill of pride and grins savagely as he moves to keep Winston‘s six clear.

.

Even those reinforcements don‘t last long and Overwatch at last leaves the field of battle victorious. Hanzo secures their retreat and returns to the drop ship only once he‘s certain that they‘re not being followed.

McCree claps a hand on his shoulder as soon as he has climbed up the ramp. „Good job out there, buddy.“

„I know.“ He walks on without further acknowledgement. Behind him, he hears the cowboy cuckle. „Cocky bastard, ya man.“

Hanzo can‘t see McCree‘s face, but he can see Lúcio wink past him. „I know,“ the medic echoes and scoots aside to make room for Hanzo on the bench as Tracer powers up the engines. Under cover of everyone hurriedly buckling into their seats, because no one ever does it while the ship is still on the ground, of course, he leans into him and presses a quick kiss to the side of his jaw.

The whispered „That‘s why I love him,“ is only audible to Hanzo.


End file.
